Jessica’s jaw tightened.
She remembered concrete dust.
A cold metal railing.
Three in the morning.
Keene telling her he wanted a bait shop.
“Nothing fancy,” he had said.
“Just worms, beer, and enough money to keep my wife from killing me.”
Jessica had laughed.
He had never opened it.
Patricia squeezed her hand again.
Jessica let her.
The confrontation with Crawford began to feel distant.
Not unimportant.
Just smaller than the names.
That was what Jessica had wanted from the beginning.
Perspective.
The ceremony finally moved toward its closing remarks.
No one spoke about the incident.
Jessica was grateful.
The last bugle notes of “Taps” crossed the field.
Everyone stood.
Jessica stared toward the memorial wall.
Her eyes burned.
She did not wipe them.
Beside her, Patricia cried openly.
Jessica envied her a little.
When the final note disappeared into the humid air, people remained standing.
No applause at first.
